


The Right Partner

by An Unknown Writers World (Hawkeyes_Winter_Soldier)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeyes_Winter_Soldier/pseuds/An%20Unknown%20Writers%20World
Summary: This is a late-night product of watching old movies with beautiful dancing.  This is cheesy and precious. Also makes me wonder what dancing with Tom Hiddleston would be like.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader
Kudos: 36





	The Right Partner

“Here you are,” Lady Sif smiled handing you a glass full of a dark amber liquid.

“Do I want to know what this is?” You questioned.

“It’s Ale, do you not have Ale on Mid-Guard?”

You laughed, “We do, it just doesn’t smell like this.”

“It’s aged for a thousand years,” She explained.

“It’s probably best you water that down,” Loki interrupted from behind her.

“Are you saying I can’t handle it?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I should go, I think I hear Thor calling for me,” Sif stood up, excusing herself from the conversation.

“He wasn’t calling her,” Loki clarified with a smirk.

“Thank you for that Captain Obvious,” You shook your head.

You’d been on Asgard for a few short days. Jane had brought you along for no reason other than you had pestered her enough to agree. It was gorgeous and magnificent; storybooks couldn’t begin to capture the beauty. The family dynamic was far from perfect, but with brothers like Thor and Loki who could really expect it to be. Even with your knowledge of New York, you couldn’t stifle the attraction that drew you to the younger brother.

“How are you enjoying Asgard?” He asked sitting across from you.

You were taken aback by his action to stay. He had been cordial during your time here but was quick to leave when his presence was no longer required.

“It’s beautiful, it seems more like a fairytale land than a real place.”

“Fairytales don’t tend to be as deceiving.”

You shrugged, “Maybe in your storybooks.”

Picking up the glass in front of you, swirling the amber liquid around you smelled it again. It couldn’t taste that bad, could it? You were in desperate need of something to take the edge off. You could feel your anxiety trying to rear its ugly head and all you wanted to do was enjoy the few days you could spend in a different world than your own.

“I wouldn’t do it,” Loki spoke again as he watched you mindfully.

You looked between him and the glass; if this was handed to you back in your college days you would have downed the whole thing without a second thought. Now, not so much.

Against your better judgment you gave him a mischievous smile, “Bottoms up,” You said before downing it like a shot.

He shook his head with a smile playing on his lips.

“I’m fine, didn’t die. Sif didn’t drug me. You don’t need to babysit.” You shrugged.

“Is that what you think this is?”

“Is it not?”

He pursed his lips, “As a prince, is it not my duty to ensure that our guests are enjoying their time?”

A laugh escaped your lips, “Prince? You are joking right?”

“I’m a little appalled,“ He sighed, "my father Odin is King of Asgard and my mother Frigga is Queen. That would make Thor and I Prince’s.”

You bit your bottom lip following his explanation. “So, you’re a Prince and a God?”

“Well, yes.”

“Whatever title you need you can use,” You smirked.

It was safe to say that Asgardian Ale worked faster than any alcohol on earth. You were already starting to feel warm all over, your mind feeling a little cloudy.

“If Thor is the God of Thunder than what are you the God of?” You asked genuinely curious.

“The God of Mischief.”

“Intriguing,” You mumbled.

“And I don’t make a point of utilizing the title of Prince of Asgard.”

“Except just now,” You smiled.

Loki laughed softly and smiled in return, it was a genuine and breathtaking sight. The corner of his eyes crinkled, and his dimples were fully exposed.

“It’s a fitting title,” You spoke.

You didn’t mean to say it aloud. Your cheeks immediately flushed, and you could feel burning skin of embarrassment.

“I may be dying. I think I’m going to go find a bar or a kitchen or something where I can find water,” You babbled.

You started to push out from the table when he stopped you, his hand subtly laying on yours.

“Here,” He swirled his hands and in front of you was a large glass of ice water complete with a lemon slice and straw.

“Thank you.”

You drank from it gratefully and wondered how many other ways you would embarrass yourself before the night was over. There were hundreds of questions swirling through your mind and yet none of them could find their way into a conversation.

“Are you sober?” He asked suddenly breaking through your clouded mind.

“I’m moderately functional,” You replied instinctively.

“I’ll take that as a no,” He laughed. “Although, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little impressed. That size of glass, that quickly would knock most mortals out in a moment.”

“I’m fine, your majesty,” You smirked.

His perfect alabaster cheeks turned the slight shade of pink before instantly disappearing.

“Dance with me,” He said standing in front of you.

“The God of Mischief dances?” You questioned. 

He chuckled, “Yes, quite well too; I might add.”

“I can’t,” You laughed. “I’m terrible at it for starters and I’m afraid my current condition will make me more clumsy than usual.”

“I’ll protect you,” He held out his hand. “Anyone can dance with the right partner.”

You thought for a moment; it was not a modest statement when you said you were terrible at dancing. Not to mention the clumsiness, you could trip over air and break limb on the way down. Your mind said no, it’s a bad idea. But your heart was winning this debate.

Laying your hand in his you stood up, “Don’t let me fall,” You said softly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

He led you through the crowds of people to the open dance floor. A handful of couples were spread out dancing, no one in sync with the music. At the far end of the dance floor you could see Thor and Jane sitting at a table together; their backs to everyone as they were lost in each other’s gaze.

Loki stopped in the middle of the floor, his piercing blue eyes gazing down at you; his hand came to rest on the small of your back and you rested yours at the top of his bicep. With a gentle smile and a deep breath, he brought your clasped hands up into the proper form and took the first step.

It seemed effortless; you had taken dance classes as a child, but they never seemed to stick. You found yourself looking down to watch your footwork.

Loki cleared his throat.

Bashfully you looked up at him, “Sorry.”

He smiled at you, “Don’t think, just dance.”

The small of your back felt as if it were on fire where his hand-laid, even through the layered dress. You felt the same strange heat in your hands where they met him. It was an odd feeling, almost as if electricity surged between you.

“Do you trust me?” He asked softly.

You nodded, not trusting your words.

He took your entangled hands, leaving yours on his shoulder, his now empty one on the back of your neck, your eyes locked on each other as he dipped you. Your breath hitched in your throat in awe. When he pulled you back up his hands engulfed your waist, lifting you off the ground and twirling you around.

When your feet finally hit the ground again you felt as though you were walking on clouds. Your fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands on the small of your back holding you close to him. His eyes never left yours, the glimmer of happiness shining through. A smile spread across your face and for a moment you forgot anyone else existed.


End file.
